


...And Consequences

by notabrawler



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notabrawler/pseuds/notabrawler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after betraying The Shield, Dean and Roman get some revenge on their former brother. Seth faces the consequences of his actions but he's not the only one who is upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...And Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse some of the goofy head-canon stuff (aka "princess"&randy/batista . My sister and I have too much fun when we make it up. Enjoy though, ok!?

Pain lanced up his leg and into his torso in distinct, mind-clearing waves. The only coherent thought that managed to surface above the blinding white sting was that perhaps he would have been better off if he hadn’t turned around at all.

When Seth’s eyelids would cooperate, he was laying on his side, staring through blurry eyes at what appeared to be a hubcap. As the seconds dripped excruciatingly by, he was sure he was looking at a vehicle. One that he knew. His own? No. But close. A groaning noise distracted him and he tried to roll over on the pavement to see what it was, only to discover it was himself. How long had he been writhing in insurmountable pain? He didn’t know. But full dark had descended around him and his attackers. The bright, full moon laid its light in all the shallow puddles that could be both collections of rainwater, or, Seth thought bitterly, his blood. Time began to blur at the edges again, and instead of fighting off unconsciousness, the newest member of The Authority sank mercifully into it.

"… him here someone’s bound to find him." 

"We’re not leaving him here."

"Yeah. OK. Should we lick his wounds too? Grow a backbone, Roman. He’s lucky we only —— oh. He’s up." Seth peeked an eye open to see the same hubcap, but only briefly, the space was promptly occupied by Dean’s smiling face. There was a fleck of blood on his chin that Seth tried desperately to focus on.

"Hi!" Dean said, dimple breaking the smooth of his cheek. "You’ve reached conciousness, but unfortunately there are no operators available at the moment. Please hold!" Seth didn’t have the time to contemplate the meaning of that before he felt the cold steel of something strike his face. He rolled off of his side and onto his back. He was grateful, it was far easier to breathe that way. He watched as the stars flickered above while the two began to speak again. "Don’t give me that face. He deserves a lot worse."

"I know he does. But this isn’t a fair fight."

"Fair? C’mon, Roman. Fair went out the window when the steel chair hit your back. This is about justice now. And if this creep had it his way, it would be one of us, or both, pissing ourselves in a mound of each other’s blood." There was a pause long enough for a satisfied laugh. "Guess he ruined the suit though. Hunter is gonna be pissed!"

"C’mon, help me." Seth felt strong arms hook under his armpits and pull him to a sitting position. The world in front of his eyes shifted, despite his gaze not wavering. The sky turned into a brick wall and the rear of Dean’s truck. Leaning against the wheelhouse was a crowbar, the smooth end stained with blood and what looked like hair.

"I’m not doing shit."

"Dean!"

An irritated grunt and then Seth felt weightless. The ground disappeared below him and instead there was warmth, gripping him at his thighs and lower back, supporting him as he was moved. During the cloud-like transition, Seth tried to find his bearings. Most importantly, where was he? He wracked his brain for the last thing he remembered, the thing that came before the blackness, before the pain, but continually was met only with ...

Foot steps!

He remembered holding his keys and checking his phone, then, from behind, rapid foot steps and when he had turned… pain. Pain crawling like a thousand spiders up his leg and into his spine and chest. He remembered falling and being dragged and beaten. He remembered cursing and laughing and a silhouette a few paces away, neither looking, nor disapproving. He remembered escaping his pain in his sleep.

"Dean…" He managed, and one of the set of arms holding him stiffened, then resumed. "Dean… did you break my legs?"

"I don’t think so." Dean’s voice replied, oddly vacant, oddly distant. "Your knee is gonna need some time though. You spun… I thwacked the side instead of the bottom of your thigh." He cleared his throat, and while Seth couldn’t be sure, he thought he heard something pained in his ex-brothers voice. "Clocked it pretty good." And petulantly, "nothin’ you don’t deserve."

"Alright, easy, Dean. Set him down here." That was Roman, Seth knew. A deep rolling voice that sounded both strained and confident. His body was lowered and he was eased onto his back again. The stars opened up above and he found Orion’s Belt naturally. It had been the first constellation he had ever learned, and even in the broken state he was in, his eyes sought it out, as though trying to anchor him to this world. "Seth? Don’t jerk around like that. I’m just trying to see the damage."

"I’m not moving." His voice was a quiet whisper.

"Oh."

"I think he’s having a seizure." Dean’s voice, suddenly urgent. "Fuck! What do we do? Hold his goddamn head, Roman! Don’t let him bite his tongue."

"Dean, calm down. He’s alright. His body is just working this out." But there was a distinct frequency of fear in Roman’s voice, it rang in Seth’s ear and scared him. Was he really moving? He had thought the stars were, the way they danced and flickered and disappeared above him. He thought maybe, if he could reach up and grab one, steady himself, then maybe that fear would leave Roman’s voice and Dean would stop squeezing at his ribs and shaking him.

He thought he said, leave me alone. But Roman and Dean only heard a growl through Seth’s clenched teeth before his body stilled.

——-

When he could open his eyes again, Seth recognized nothing. The light on the ceiling looked eerily like a nipple and the absurdity of that opened up a cough in his chest and he fought it vainly.

"Hunter. He’s… doing something."

The nipple on the ceiling was gone and in its place was Orton, looking down, managing to look both disinterested, and concerned in the same moment. All at once his face was pushed away and replaced by another, Hunter’s, looking relieved. Seth thought he looked tired, and tried to tell him so.

"Nipple."

A smile crackled across Hunter’s face and Seth hoped that his face was smiling too. "Hello, Princess." Hunter said. Seth watched as he turned his face and gave a small, weak looking gnarled hand a kiss. There was an IV in the only vein in that hand. Seth became acutely aware it was his hand. He tested that theory by clenching his fist: the fist clenched. "Don’t try too much. Randy is going to get the nurse now."

"OK."

——

If possible, the next time Seth was aware it was during a trip to the bathroom. He was standing, with the aid of someone behind him, and looking blankly into the toilet bowl. In front of him, his hands opened and closed, and while they were still weak looking, they had more familiarity in them than last time.

"What?" From behind him. He recognized Randy’s voice.

"Nothing. What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

He felt Randy’s hands slip around his waist and lift up the hospital gown. He relieved himself when Randy commanded, and then was escorted back to his bed without much fanfair. When he had settled, he looked around the room and discovered he knew it after all. It was Triple H’s second study. The desk and shelves had been pushed to one side, and in the center of the room a bed had been placed, along with a TV and a few arm chairs. He looked down to find it wasn’t a hospital gown he wore, after all. Just a t-shirt, one of Batista’s, if he wasn’t mistaken.

"I’m confused."

"I know."

"What happened?"

"You got beat up." There wasn’t any inflection in Randy's voice; he spoke as though he had relayed this information a hundred times. "The Shield, we think. But I guess it could be just about anyone. And before you ask, no, it hasn’t been months, and no, it hasn’t been two days. It’s been eight days." For the first time Randy met Seth’s confused and slightly dazed gaze. "You were admitted to the hospital Monday night after Raw. You spent four days in care there, and have been here, home, since. You suffered a pretty serious concussion, a few broken ribs, and your knee… well, you’re going to need to rehab that for awhile. But you’re healthy. Just waiting for your mind to catch up."

Seth’s gaze turned towards the window. The blinds were down, but there soft light cycling through. He wondered if it was morning or evening.

Orton continued. “I think I’ve told you this about six times. I’m hoping it’s the last. We can’t really count on Batista to relay the information, and H has been so busy. But, speaking of Dave, I left him in the tub so I’m going to check on him. You’re alright here?”

"Yeah."

"OK. I’ll be back in awhile." Randy was already at the door when Seth made a weak noise in protest, halting him. He turned around, a question on his face.

"Where are Dean and Roman?"

"Don’t know." Then he was gone, too.

——

"Wake up."

The sour smell of tobacco curled around Seth’s mouth and he eagerly forced himself from sleep. Yet, when his eyes opened, he was met with only darkness. Before panic could envelop him, he felt, as much as heard, a voice in his ear.

"I’m not here ‘cause I want to be. I’m here ‘cause… well, fuck. I guess I needed to see for myself the kind of shape I put you in." The words were hissed, the warm air tickling at Seth and more than anything he wanted to turn his head-- Feel the puffed, somehow angry breath, on his lips. "Stop.. fuckin’ moving!" Seth stopped. "Good. Now. You better heal up soon, or Roman’s going to spiral out of control. Don’t be a goddamn traitor _and_  a pussy. Seriously. Who has a seizure over an alley beating? You’re pathetic."

There was a strain in the voice, a pained sound that Seth knew too well. "Dean…—-"

"Shut up! You don’t get to say my name." It was then that Seth realized there was a hand around his throat. The grip tightened, and he tried desperately to relax. "You do that shit to us. You throw us out like we’re garbage and don’t show a bit of remorse? What kind of man are you? I’m starting to think you aren’t, at all, y’know? More like poison, or a virus, masquerading as something human."

Seth felt the tip of Dean's nose along the shell of his ear, as though he was tracing it.

"I’m forcing myself to forget your name. It’s like swallowing tacks, but I’m doing it. I’m forcing myself to forget you were ever a part of me. If I don’t do that I think I’ll fall apart. I think.. I think Roman and I will fall apart." _Because I’m the glue_ , Seth thought dismally. "I never loved you."

It seemed minutes passed before Dean spoke again. His voice was now from somewhere different, hovering over Seth’s eyes instead of his ear.

"If I never loved you then I was never betrayed."


End file.
